Smother ━━ Killian Jones [Discontinued]

fourteen; thomas part one

        "Coin for your thoughts, darling?"

        Sage's head snapped towards the voice, her eyes narrowing once they landed on the handsome stranger from the tavern. He stood up, all smug-like, holding a shiny flask in his hand, looking at her like she was a curious creature, "Lonesome, are we?" He amusingly questioned.

        Her head tilted to the side, "What are you doing here?"

        He shrugged, "You seemed upset. I'm checking up on you."

        "How considerate." She sarcastically muttered, "Well, I'm fine. You can go now."

        She paused for a moment, waiting to hear his footsteps crunching the snow as he walked away. But they never came. Sage looked behind her shoulder and saw that he was still there, smirking. She rolled her eyes, "Go away!"

        "No."

        "Yes!"

        "No."

         "Yes!"

         "Nope."

         "Go!"

        "No."

        "Bastard." Sage mumbled, looking away as she bit back a smile. Eventually, she did hear his footsteps, but they weren't walking away. Instead, they were walking towards her. The man sat down on the small bench besides her, their legs touching. His bright eyes, that looked like a focus point in the midst of white, darted to every inch of her face, instantly noticing her lingering distress. "You look like you need a drink."

        Sage took the flask he was handing to her wordlessly, drinking much more than a small sip. He chuckled, "You know, I usually tell most women to slow down."

        "It's the holidays." She scoffed, "Let me drink."

        "Holidays are suppose to be a time for joy. Why aren't you celebrating in glee?" He questioned, making Sage silent. 

        After a few moments, she looked back at him with a cocky grin, "I should ask you the same thing. Most people are with there families tonight. Why aren't you?"

        A deep heave left his chest, "I was with them, earlier. Things didn't go so well, so a tavern seemed to be the best place for me." 

        "...It's my birthday." Sage finally told, curling her toes from the inside of her shoes. "Birthdays aren't really my reckoning."

        "I'm assuming a lingering wound may be reopening." The man looked at her more closer, and Sage felt more exposed them ever before. Somehow, he was looking straight past her wall and searching for her true emotions. "Or is it already open?"

        "Clever, aren't you." She took another sip of the whiskey, enjoying the burning down liquid going down her throat.

        Suddenly, he held out his hand, "Thomas Paine. May I ask for your name, or will I get another side-ways glare."

        "Cheeky, very nice." Sage shook his hand, smiling widely. "Sage Chamberlain."

        "Ah, a lovely name for a lovely women."

        She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Do you flirt with everyone?"

        "Only the pretty ones."